Wrecked
by Skillet'66
Summary: More than one person is in a wreck. Sometimes, the wrecker gets away and the wreckee is faced with punishment. One wreck can lead to another, and then I'm there. I'm Ponyboy Curtis. My cousin is the wreckee, but her father is known as the wrecker.
1. Prolouge

_**Wrecked**_

**Summery:**** More than one person is in a wreck. Sometimes, the wrecker gets away and the wreckee is faced with punishment. One wreck can lead to another, and then I'm there. I'm Ponyboy Curtis. My cousin is the wreckee, but her father is known as the wrecker.**

**A/N:**** Second fanfiction. I have two more ideas, though. So, sorry if I don't post for a while. I've seen a lot of fanfictions about a little cousin or a little girl showing up at the Curtis' doorsteps. I'm just writing this for the fun of it. Maybe I'll post more frequently if you like it. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own **_**The Outsiders.**_

**Claimer:**** I do, however, own Lauren O'dair and the storyline.**

_**Prolouge**_

* * *

><p>I'm on the street, thinking about no one but myself. It's the last day of school for a week because of Fall Break. Restless teens won't think twice about jumping me. I have a switchblade in my pocket, but I'm still weary about the thought of getting jumped. I've only been jumped three times, but each one caused something very dramatic.<p>

The day I was coming home from the movies, I got a cut on my neck. My life was at stake, and it was my first jumping. Dallas said that the first one's the hardest. I'd like to argue with that. It's a wonder how my gang found the Socs pounding on me. Not a day later, in the middle of the night, the Socs from the movies found Johnny and me in the park. We ran away, and there's more to the story than I want to remember.

It's late at night. Eleven thirty according to some guy's watch I got a look at. Walking by bar after bar, it reminds me of the third time I got jumped.

It was twelve thirty in the morning. I had gone to the movies with one of my friends from school. After dropping him off, I got lost because I hadn't been familiar with the middle-class section. Finally, I saw something that looked familiar and headed in that direction. Only I didn't know why it looked familiar. I later found out that it was something Johnny and I ran past on our way to the park.

Suddenly, I realized that I was walking in the bad greasers' territory. Bar after bar, I'd never be allowed here. Screams and laughs. Music and cussing. Smashes and brawls. The street was bare, but not silent. One man from a bar was thrown out on the sidewalk. He cussed someone out to himself. I walked with my head down, my feet silent. Blending in was hard to do on a bare street, and the man eventually walked over. "Wut are ya doin' here, kid?" He stumbled brainlessly.

I shook my head and picked up my pace. This guy followed, yelling things, cursing, slamming stuff on the ground. I ignored him. Tears were falling out of my eyes, but I didn't dare reach up to wipe them away. He finally caught up to me, but the only thing I could think was,_ What's Darry going to say?_

I shake my head. Enough of that.

When I got home, Darry was furious. He stood up and slamed his foot on the ground. "Where the hell have you been?" He rambled on and on, loudly. Screaming in my face, and I just stood there, rubbing my arm like a goof.

Eventually, I stammered out, "I got lost," and looked up. My head had been down the whole time.

He noticed my black eye, the scars. His face went pale as he saw the tears in my eyes and the red glow of my face. "Ponyboy . . ."

"Save it," I mumbled, dropping my head and pulling up the sleaves on my arms, revealing the rest of the battle scars, the glass ejecting out of my body

He fixed me up, telling me again and again, "I'm so sorry, Pony. I didn't mean it. It could've been worse. Thanks for not runnin' out on me,"

I shake my head and drop my head low, still thinking about that night. I make it back to the house all right before curfew. Darry looks at me, a little worried, and asks me to sit down. "Ponyboy, why are starting to come home so late?"

I shrug. "I got lost,"

He sighs and shakes his head, a worried look on his face. Darry has been a little protective ever since that whole incident last year. He just recently brought my curfew back to twelve. "I know. I know. Maybe I should just bring your curfew back down. We can't have you getting jumped again. You didn't get jumped, right?"

I nod and bring up my head, looking into his dark, stormy eyes. "Night, Darry," I say. I get up and head to my room. I've been sleeping alone for a while, and I haven't had nightmares yet. I have a bad feeling tonight, though.

* * *

><p>I give a shrill scream and wake to my own fears. The nightmares have come back. I'm not sure what it was about, like always, but I have a feeling it has something to do with the guy from a few nights ago. Sweat and tears ran down my face, slipping near my mouth and nose. I feel sticky and groggy, but I also feel like throwing up.<p>

Soda ran into my room with a worried look on his face. "Was that you, Ponyboy?" He asks.

"Yeah," I answer, lying back down. "I'm okay, go back to sleep,"

"Are you sure, Ponyboy? You can sleep with me if you want," He's probably only letting me choose because this is the first night they've come back. I sit up in the bed again, rubbing my head as Darry walks through the door and sits on the bed.

"Nightmares, Pony?" I nod. He sighs and rubs his head tiredly. I feel bad for waking him up, but how am I supposed to help it? "Maybe I should cut your curfew down. No more walkin' by yourself, got it?"

"Okay, Darry," I say.

"Do you want to sleep with me tonight?" Soda asks with a puppy-dog look on his face. I know he won't leave me alone until I agree. I've scared him, given him the sense that I'm not all right. So I get up. He puts an arm around me and leads me to his bed. It comforts me, and I fall asleep in seconds.

When I wake up in the morning, Soda tells me I moved around in my sleep all night long. He swears I was crying in my sleep. "Was not," I say.

"Was, too," He says with a grin spread on his face. I can't help but grin.

"Sure,"

Darry walks in with the mail. "Bills, bills," He mumbles to himself, "Bills, hey, what's this?" He makes his way to the kitchen table and sets down the other useless junk. Soda and I follow, reading the letter over his shoulder.

_Dear Darry,_

_I know we haven't talked since college, but do you remember that day in high school when I saved your butt from the Wolves' quaterback? You promised that you'd do me one big favor whenever I needed it. Right now, I really need you. I'll explain later, I promise. My daughter, Lauren O'dair, I really need you to watch her. She'll be at your house at noon. I'll be back in a week. Then I'll explain._

_Your friend, _

_Tommy G._

I finish reading and look at Darry. Soda finishes a little later, standing back with a cocked eyebrow. "Who's Tommy G.?" He asks Darry.

"I don't know," Darry replies, scanning the letter again. An idea comes to my mind.

"Hey," I say, "What if, and I know this sounds crazy, but, what if that letter is for Dad?" It clearly states, "we haven't talked since college", and Dad went to the local college. I've heard him mention a friend of his in college that was always getting into trouble. Darry and Soda turn around to look at me. I shrug and give a sideways smile. "You never know," I mutter, lowering my smile into a straight face.

"You may be right, Pony," Soda says, surprising Darry.

He thinks about it for a minute, then turns to me. "I think you are, but we've got to get to work. I'll ask Two-Bit to come over. If that girl shows up, I want her out. This could be a trick."

"But-" Soda starts.

Darry whips around and faces Soda with a glare. "No buts, Soda. I'm not taking a chance." He gets up and grabs his toolbelt.

"But-"

"No. Come on, we've got to get to work." He opens the door, and Soda walks under Darry's arm with his head down. "See ya, Pony," Darry says, and then they're gone.

Two-Bit comes around ten o' clock, beer in hand. "Hey, Ponyboy. You want to go do somethin'?" He asks.

"No thanks, Two-bit,"

He grins like the devil himself, and starts speaking like him, too. "Oh, that's right. Darry told me you was expectin' a little lady."

I sigh. "Yeah, whatever, Two-Bit," I mutter. I sit on the couch and open _A Tale of Two Cities. _We were assigned to read the second-to-last chapter over Fall Break.

"Why are you always readin'?" Two-Bit asks me. "What's to read about?"

"Lost of stuff," I say. "Charles Dickens is a really good author. He wrote a lot of great books. _Great Expectations, A Christmas Carol_; we did a study on him last year. It looks like the same this year."

"Too bad you were . . ." Two-Bit drifts off. He holds his words in and looks at me with wide eyes. He knows I don't like it, but I've accepted it. It took me a while, though.

"Yeah," I say. "Too bad I was held back."

* * *

><p><em><strong>End Of Prolouge<strong>_

**A/N:**** This was merely intended to get you up-to-date with my story. I tried to make it non-boring or whatever. Just know that this took me like a week to write. The beginning and the end are always the hardest things to write. The next chapter will be much better. I promise. Reviews are greatly appreciated! I never know if you like it or not until I get reviews. I'm only trying to do my best; I can't do my best until I know what I'm doing wrong. Thanks for reading! **


	2. Lauren's Story

_**Wrecked**_

**A/N:**** I think the rest of the story is going to be in 3rd person POV. It took a lot of figuring out to do. Forgive me if I change it. I really need a beta-reader. I can give advice to other people, but never to myself. Why is that? Hmm . . .**

**Thanks a ton to those that reviewed, favorited, story alert-ed (or whatever you'd call it). It really means a lot! I hope you like this.**

_**Chapter 1: Lauren's Story**_

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><p>She is confused and dazed when the red and blue lights suddenly jerk her from her slumber. Lauren O'dair faces the outline her father's dark, jet truck that blends into the night, swung deep into the alley. She struggles to roll over and face the blaring lights and blazing sound of alarms. Her father is being spoken to by a police man, far bigger than him. "Could you stand right here for me, sir?" The police man asks, gesturing to a small piece of white tape on the road littered with glass and wine.<p>

Her father nods and stumbles to the almost glowing spot in the road. She watches, as does the police man, as her father struggles to keep balance on the road, which the tall, thick-necked, intimidating police man asked him to do. He appears drunk, like the men from a block behind which are hiding all to loudly and violently inside bars. "Sir, I'll have to arrest you for driving while drunk, too. Was there anyone else in the vehicle with you?"

"Yes," Lauren whispers to herself, looking her father in the eyes as he searches for her figure.

"No, sir," He says, dropping his head down before winking at his daughter, who was now so confused and weak that she didn't understand what she should do.

"Excuse me for a moment." The police man says, nodding to his newest catch.

Lauren immediately takes this chance, and stumbles to her father. She finally catches up to him after what seems like hours, pain shooting through her leg with each step. A pain most don't expirience in their life, let alone within a mere ten years of it. "Daddy," She says weakly.

"Lauren, I can't explain what happened to you." Her father says. Then, he instructs her to pull a letter out of his pocket. "I wrote it when I knew the police were going to find us. You were still knocked out from the . . . incident." He struggles for the right words to say to his one true treasure, his daughter. "Mail it to the address on there. Memorize the address; go there tomorrow at noon. I promise I'll come back. I'll be back in one week."

Lauren speaks to him for the first time since she awoke, and for the last time in a while. "One week?" She asks, fear in her sweet, innocent, young voice.

"One week, I promise. Go on, now, Lauren. Everything will be okay."

She nods and goes back to her position on the verge of entering the alleyway. When the lights are gone, she looks at the apartments surrounding here. _I don't want to be here, Daddy,_ She thinks, calling out to him in her own mind. _Please, Daddy! I'll be good. Please._ Her bribes and promises don't work, though. She doesn't accept it for a long time that her dad has been arrested. Tears of sadness and sweat of the fear that overcomes her wrap her in a cold, uncomforting cocoon, and she falls asleep as the first signs of day appear.

* * *

><p>It's mid-day when little Lauren wakes up. She streches out her hands and gives a yawn. She remembers the note and searches for it on the concrete. There are no signs of people on the street. It's quiet, calm, and Lauren can't help but wonder about last night as she walks to the post office.<p>

People surround the nearest post office, working their way into the building to mail their letters, or they may be headed to the shops nearby the post office. Lauren works her way in the building and mails the letter. She thinks about showing up today, but the letter probably won't get there until tomorrow. She thinks of what she might do.

Lauren finally decides to get something to eat with the five dollars she found wrapped up inside the envelope with a note, saying: _For you, Lauren._ She asks the man at the post office, "Sir, where is the nearest gas station?"

The old man jerks his thumb to the left and says, "That-a-way, little miss. A Shell, can't miss it."

"Thank you," She says. Lauren skips to the gas station and buys little things, leaving her with an even three fifty. For the first time that day, Lauren examines herself in the station's bathroom. Her red shirt and blue jeans are covered in dirt. A big, thin cut on her left knee reveals a scar of a maroon color. The same colored, tiny scars cover her whole body. She picks off a few more pieces of glass and meets the most haunting feature. Brown stares at brown. She sees something her eyes that she can't quite place. Fear? Overwhelming? Confusion? Perhaps, it's all of the feelings mixed into one.

She shakes her head and turns on the warm water. She pulls out a paper towel from the dispenser and wets it, then washes the dried, rusty blood from her face. She smiles at her cleaner self when she's through with that. She repeats the process by pulling up her sleeves and washing her arms a legs, taking extra percaution to her left side-the left knee in particular. She looks at her reflection and gives a grim smile._ I look better,_ She thinks. _Much better than before, and tomorrow, I'll go to the man's house. And he'll be really nice to me. I'll have a nice home there until Daddy gets back._

Lauren walks around town for the rest of the day, giving small talk to the people behind counters. "Good morning, little girl," They say.

"Good morning," Lauren responds. She asks them for directions to the next place she wants to go. When it turned dark, she asks one young, teenage girl with curly red hair where the nearest park was.

"About a block down, near _your_ ground," She snides, griping her teeth and half-snorting. Lauren knows what the girl was referring to her as, and she had to admit, she wouldn't think twice about labeling herself one, too. A greaser. The red-haired girl was a middle-class judging by her looks, but one can't be for sure. Lauren simpily nods and heads out the door.

The park had a fountain. Lauren is interested in it at first, because it had red droppings on one side of the fountain. She thinks about the droppings for a while, of what it might be. A drop of blood leaks out of her knee and falls on the concrete ground. Lauren compares the two droppings and comes to a conclusion: the dry, red drops on the ground are blood. She yawns and heads over to a bench. After deep, long thoughts of the past, present, and future, Lauren drifts off to sleep and dreams of darkness.

Lauren wakes up to the dim, gray light of morning. Stretching out her arms, she gets up and heads to the nearest gas station to look at the time. When somebody finally comes to unlock the doors, Lauren stands behind him. "Oh, hello," The man says, nodding to Lauren.

"Hello," She says quietly, a little uncomfortably.

"What are you doing here this early?" The man says. He unlocks the door and holds it open for Lauren to enter. His white hair and wrinkly, aged face contrast from his brightly colored eyes.

She nods to the clock. "I wanted to see what time it was," She says.

"Well, it should be six." The man says.

Lauren gives a soft yet agitated response, somewhere between a moan and a groan. "Six?" She questions, involuntarily poking her lip out and making puppy-eyes.

The man chuckles lightly. "You can stay here until it's time for you to leave," He offers. Lauren accepts. She stays and talks to the man. His name is John, and he's forty-nine years old, aged early. He has a twenty-three year old son and a twenty-one year old daughter. Their names are Michael and Elizabeth. Lauren keeps her information inisde, telling him only her first name and the street where she's supposed to go. "Why are you headed there?" The man asks her.

"Hmm? Oh, my . . . uncle is there. I'm staying with him for a week."_ Good lie,_ She tells herself.

"You are?"

"Yes, sir. My dad's on a buissness trip until then." Which wasn't a complete lie. Lauren was here in Tulsa with her father who was on a trip to research something for an article he was working on. They were supposed to stay for one week, then leave and go back home.

"Oh,"

Twelve o' clock rolled around what seemed like twelve hours later to Lauren. She thanked John and left for the address. _2160 Oak Street, 2160 Oak Street,_ She said to herself in her Street wasn't far from the station, John had courtesy enough to tell her that. "Just walk about a block to the left when you step out that door. Take another right; walk until you reach the empty lot. Then, keep walking in the direction of the stop sign. Oak Street's somewhere 'round there." _Thank you, John._ She said in her mind.

And so she did. The empty lot turned out to be not-so-empty. Two boys were tossing a ball back and forth. "Hey, Steve," One says. This one looked nicer than the other. He had honey-blonde hair and a calm composure.

"Yeah?" Says the other. He had dark, swirled hair and a thick build. He scared Lauren a little.

"You think you can take my shift? _Please?"_ The honey-haired boy whines, making a puppy-dog face that could beat Lauren's own.

"Soda," The other whines. "Fine, but you're takin' my weekend shift."

"Thank you!" He repeats. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He holds out his hands to hug his friend, but his friend pushes him away with a silly look on his face.

Lauren waits for the two boys to pass her. One goes down Oak Street, and the other turns around. She looks for the address as she goes down the street. _2000, 2010, 2020._ The honey-haired boy whistles a sweet little Elivs tune that Lauren hums softly to. Soft leaves crunch under Lauren's feet. A cool breeze whips her light brown hair across her face. She's at peace for the first time in a while. Then 2160 Oak Street comes into view.

The boy stops whistling, and Lauren stops humming. He opens the chain-link fence's gate that surrounds the dusty, peeling, grayish-peach colored house. Lauren tilts her head a little and stops in her tracks. The boy looks at Lauren for the first time and smiles. "What's your name, sweetie?"

Lauren swallows. Should she trust this boy? He looks nice enough. Lauren doesn't dare look into his lively brown eyes, though, in fear that his look is as crazy and deranged as her father's were the night before. "Lauren," She says softly.

"Lauren O'dair?" The boy asks.

Lauren hesitates before nodding. "I'm looking for Darrel . . . Curtis. My daddy told me to come here." She struggles to remember the details of the letter, but she does.

"Yeah, he'll be home soon. Come on inside," He holds out a hand and swings open the gate. Lauren reluctantly accepts. She steps through the creaky, old door into the house, where two boys sit on the couch. One has red-brown hair with little streaks of blonde in it. He's young-much younger than the young, drunk man sitting next to him. They both look up. The brown-haired boy from his book and the red-haired one from his drink and the television.

"Hey, Soda," The drunk one calls out. "Takin' another break?"

"Yeah," The boy beside Lauren responds.

"Wat'cha got there, Soda?" The book-boy asks.

_Soda? Is this guy's name seriously Soda?_ "Soda" pushes Lauren forward lightly. "This," He says, gesturing to the girl covered in dirt, scars, and other types of mess. "Is Lauren O'dair."

"The girl from the letter?" Book-boy asks.

"What letter?" The other boy asks, throwing his faded black jacket on the floor, revealing a Mickey Mouse muscle-tee. _Oh, god,_

"The letter," Book-boy hands the other boy the letter that Lauren sent. Lauren watches as the book-boy and "Soda" argue about her.

"Aw, come on, Pony! Darry can't say no." _Darry?_ She thinks. She realizes that the Darrel Curtis she was sent to may not want to keep her.

"Soda!" Book-boy whines.

"Let's just wait until he gets home or somethin'. Just quit arguing!" The red-haired boy suggests.

"Okay," The boy beside Lauren says and plops on the couch, taking a swig of Pepsi. Lauren continues to stand in her spot. _Okay,_ She thinks,_ Let's wait for this man to get home._

* * *

><p>About for hours later, the rumble of a car adds to the sound of a radio, the t.v, and Two-Bit, Soda, and Pony screaming over a poker game. Lauren learned a lot about the boys. Well, she learned their names and all about Two-Bit, who wouldn't shut up for five seconds. "I'm home," Says a voice at the door.<p>

"Hey, Darry!" Soda pipes up, sliding an ace into his shoe. Two-Bit catches him and holds his hand. Lauren turns around to face the man named Darry. He was tall, big, and thickly built. Lauren actually wondered if he had a tattoo or not, or, rather, how many. He looked sweaty and tired, ready to end another work-filled day. He walks right pass Lauren, who has opened her mouth a tiny bit at the sight of the huge man.

"Tell him, Soda," Ponyboy says, grinning from ear to ear.

"What?" Darrel asks, giving Soda a look.

Soda smiles and makes his way toward Lauren. "I was thinkin' that . . . maybe we could let Lauren stay,"

Darrel looks at the little girl and sighs, looking back up at Soda. "No," He says sternly. Soda tries to speak up again, but another one of Darrel's "no's" stops him.

So he tries once more.

"Please, Darry? Look at her! How can you say no to this?" Soda wraps his arms around Lauren, making her uncomfortable, but her eyes still plead.

Darrel looks a little closer at Lauren. His eyes widen a little. "Come here," He whispers, softly, gently. Darrel sits Lauren on the couch. She gives in hesitantly, knees folded over the couch, sucking in a breath of air. Darrel sits down, too, and slides a first aid kit out from underneath the couch. He opens it, lays it on his lap, and takes Lauren's arm. She breathes a little fast as Darrel examines it, turning it this way and that. He picks up her other arm and almost immediately gets to work.

"Hold still, sweetie," Darrel tells her. He picks something up from the kit and begins to wipe her arm. Lauren whines and tears form in her eyes.

"It hurts," She mutters, locking her puppy-dog eyes with Darrel's hard and firm eyes.

"Yes," He mutters, continuing to wipe her arms down with the intoxicated rag. She clutches her teeth and toughs it out. He picks glass and tiny pebbles out of her whole left side, wiping her down and cleaning her up. "There," He says when he finishes. "All done,"

Soda, Ponyboy, and Two-Bit come over. They take random seats and look at Darrel. "So?" Soda asks.

"So, what?" Darrel asks.

"So,"

Darrel gets agitated. "What?" He asks again.

"What about Lauren?" Two-Bit asks, making sense out of Soda's misinterpreted words.

Darrel sighs. He looks at the half-hidden little girl on the couch. He thinks long and hard about the descision, one can only guess what runs through the young man's mind. "Okay,"

* * *

><p><em><strong>End Of Chapter 2: Lauren's Story<strong>_

**A/N:**** So, yeah. There you have it. Better? Worse? I personally think I did good.**

**As always, reviews are appreciated.**


	3. Getting to Know You

_**Wrecked**_

**A/N-**** Thanks for the responses! And to **_**Chick1966,**_** I put Darry on the note because they were friends as teenagers, and I think that Tommy would refer to him as Darry. That's just what I thought. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Knock yourselves out.**

**Oh, I change the person's POV because I can't decide which I want to do. I don't plan on doing it often, but I will do it. Lauren's is 3rd person, and Ponyboy's is 1st person. I don't think I'll do 2nd person just yet. Just wanted to tell you guys that. **

_**Chapter 2**_

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><p>Lauren spends the next thirty minutes on the couch, listening to the loud surroundings that she wasn't used to. Her house was always quiet, not like this. The boys rambunctious selves could be heard clearly over the blasting radio and t.v. Two-Bit and Sodapop often tangled with each other, Soda winning because he had never been intoxicated like his oppenent.<p>

Lauren's head jerks up. A loud _crash_ stops the boys' actions. Steve walks in, covered from head to toe in a oily mess. "You . . . owe . . . me," He growls at Soda, teeth clenched and eyes smoldering.

"Woah!" Soda yells over the current argument between Two-Bit and Ponyboy. "What happened to you?"

Steve takes a glob of the black mess and wipes it on Soda. Soda just stands there, grinning mishcheviously. "Someone's car was really messed up, and I have to go back and _continue_ working on the damn thing when I'm done cleanin' up!" He's yelling at Soda, Steve's nose almost touching his.

"Oh, really?" Soda asks, peering at Steve with those innocent eyes. Steve grips his way to the shower.

"I'm gettin' your clothes, Sodapop Curtis!"

Soda laughs and sits on the couch beside Lauren, who is now scarred by the monster she just saw walk through the door. "Don't worry about ol' Steve. He's all bark no bite," He says to her. Lauren nods and goes back to the paper she's drawing on.

Darry comes out of his room. "What's Steve want?" He asks.

Two-Bit looks up from the T.V. "He's mad at Soda 'cause he had to a fix a messed-up car, and now he's dirty." He stumbles, grinning. He takes another swallow of beer. Lauren turns her nose up at the odor.

"Why do you drink that?" She asks Two-Bit, curious to why he drank it, too. She had found lots of similar cans in her fridge at home.

Two-Bit shrugs. "I don't know, kid, but promise me that you won't do it, 'kay?" He holds up his pinky finger.

"'Kay," Lauren whispers, wrapping her small, smooth finger around the young man's dripping, tough one.

Lauren turns around to face the two older brothers in an argument. "You've never had to roof houses before, Soda. Quit complaining." Darry says, sinking into his chair.

"I ain't complainin'! I'm just sayin' that I should be paid more!" Soda fights back, slamming his can on the table, creating a loud _clink_ that silences the room. It seems as if Elvis and Mickey Mouse have quieted down, as Darry looks at the can Soda slammed on the table. "Yeah," Soda says, realizing the mistake he made.

Darry looks at him, shakes his head, and walks to his room.

Lauren looks at the can in Two-Bit's hands, and then she looks at the one on the table. She looks up at Two-Bit. "He should make the promise, too." She whispers.

"He did," Two-Bit says, a little too loudly for a whisper. Soda goes to his room and slams the door. Lauren jerks her head back and blinks from the sound. "He just didn't keep it,"

* * *

><p>Darry looks frustrated when he finally comes out of his room after two hours. Soda walked out after thirty minutes of solitude. Two-Bit went home an hour ago, along with Steve, who actually <em>did<em> borrow Soda's clothes. He threatened to borrow Soda's clothes for a whole week. I don't really see what that will do, though.

He comes out and sits on the couch, barely missing the little girl's face on the couch. Lauren fell asleep minutes after Two-Bit left, since the T.V was finally turned down. He looks at Lauren, then up at me, and the girl's face again. "Where's she gonna sleep?" Soda asks Darry.

"I don't know." He answers, shifting her little face from the couch to his lap, stroking her soft, light-brown hair. "What do you think?"

"I think the couch will work." Soda mutters. I've never seen him like this before. He's always been so happy. Why did he have to drink that? I bet Two-Bit talked him into it while he was drunk. Damn Two-Bit.

"We can't leave her on the couch," Darry says.

"Do we have a cot or extra bed or something?" I ask Darry.

"Go look," He instructs me. So I do. I go to the back room and find . . . nothing.

"I guess the couch will have to do," Darry says. He gives Lauren to me because Soda, apparently, already went to bed.

I wonder how old Lauren is. She looks about six years old, but, then again, I used to look the same way until I was about eleven. I sit on the couch, Lauren's legs wrapped around my waist. She breaths lightly, but I notice my shoulder getting wet. I lift her off and see that my red shirt has grown darker, wetter. Lauren's eyes are dripping with tears. She wimpers quietly. I feel so bad just looking at her.

Darry returns with a handful of blankets. "Lay her down, Pony," I lay her soaking face on the couch's pillow. Darry lays a blanket over her and turns the lamp off. "Go to bed," He tells me, heading off to bed himself.

I don't go to my room. I go to Soda's room. He's barely awake, eyes staring at the ceiling, opening and closing. "Soda?" I say.

"Hey, Ponyboy," He says with a small smile. I know then that he's been waiting on me.

I crawl under the sheets and roll over towards Soda. "Soda?" I ask again, lightly shaking him. "Why'd you drink that?"

His eyes open and he rolls over to me. "I don't know," He says. I turn around and look out the window, barely hearing the words I thought moments ago. "Damn Two-Bit,"

* * *

><p>Lauren is still asleep as two dark figures loom outside. It's midnight. The clock just struck twelve. The shorter of the two figures stepped off of the porch and ran away. The taller, thicker figure steps through the doorway, flipping on a small light that can't be seen from the hallway. Lauren tosses on her spot on the couch. The man looks at the little girl, an odd, confused expresion on his face. She turns away from the figure and opens her eyes.<p>

She sits up, rubbing her little eyes. She blinks and looks around the room, meeting looks with the hood that walked through the door. She sreams, but so does another person; they start simultaneously.

The figure backs away from the screaming stranger he sees on the couch, successivly knocking over the coffee table and a lamp.

Lauren runs to the kitchen and hides underneath the table.

She listens as the other screams quiets down; a young man's voice is heard shushing the scream. A person walks down the hallway. The person enters the room where the scream was heard. He then walks out to the living room. Lauren tenses up, fearing what will happen to the person.

"Tim?" Says a voice; it's Darry's voice.

"Shoot, man. What's goin' on here?" Says the other voice. Lauren wimpers again, her breathing speeding up from the stranger's-the monster's-voice.

"Huh? Where'd she go?" Darry says. Lauren figures he must've seen the barren couch, littered with the ragged blankets Lauren had used.

"In the kitchen, I think. Who is she?" The stranger asks. Lauren convinces herself that the man isn't here for her-or, rather, her father.

"Long story." The floorboards creak as Darry makes his way to the kitchen. "Lauren," He whispers, trying to sound as calm and compassionate as possible. Lauren crawls onto the floor. She stands up, wiping the dust off her arm. "There you are," He picks Lauren up with one arm, her head leaning on his shoulder.

Tim stood in the living room, arms crossed, ciggarette hanging out of his mouth. A fit, black t-shirt showed off every muscle he possessed. Thick-neck, yet tall and lean, Tim Shepard was a model hood. "What's goin' on? I'm just tryin' to get away from the fuzz, man."

Darry explains. Lauren's head rests on the man's shoulder all the while, her eyes barely open. She stays awake, worried about what the stranger she sees could or would do to her.

"Look, some cops are after me. They think I was drunk drivin'. I ain't been drivin' since they took my car away!" Tim grips.

Lauren yawns and inches her head closer to Darry's neck. Darry lays her on the couch, saying to Tim in a hushed voice, "Well, want do you need from me?"

There's a moment of silence. "Nothing, now," Tim gripes, making his way to the door.

"Tim," Darry says. "Come on, Tim. You need a place to stay, right? Just for tonight?"

Tim sighs, taking a drag on his ciggarette. "And Curly, but you can't do that. Not with everyone else crammed up in here. I'll see ya,"

Something takes over Darry. He looks at the little girl's face, and he sees his own mother. How kind and calm she was, and how she wanted to "live life with no regrets". He looks at Tim, intimidating. "Listen, I'm gone to bed, but if you and Curly need a place to crash, she can go somewhere else." He sounds confused, doing something nice, yet he sounds snappy and frustrated.

Darry walks to his room, the heavy footsteps causing echoes to ripple through the hall. Tim steps in the house. "Curly should be back in a few minutes. Where can I stay?"

* * *

><p>When Lauren wakes up, she's curled up in the armchair. Blankets gone, she's shivering uncontrollably. She stretches her arms and looks at the clock, 7:52. She stands up and notices the blankets on the couch, spread out and some even on the floor. She looks around and finds the hallway, knocking on doors and calling, "Hello? Hello?"<p>

When unsuccesful, she resorts to opening the doors. One door opens, revealing an unmade bed. Another is the door to a bathroom. In the next room, another unmade bed appears. This time, there's a boy sitting on the bed, reading.

Lauren walks quietly to the red-headed boy, "Where is everyone?" She whispers, afraid that the silence of the house would be broken if she spoke too loudly.

"Hmm?" Ponyboy asks, looking up from his book. "Oh, they're gone."

"Gone_ where_?" Lauren whines, leaning her back against the bed.

"Work,"

"Oh,"

"Two-Bit's coming over. Tim and Curly had to leave this morning, but I think they're coming with him."

"Okay,"

Lauren speaks quietly and rarely. She's weary and scared, unsure of her father's choice in protection for her. She trusts her father, so she stay with the boys, but her heart pounds when one of them is near. She tenses up, braces herself, because these are the greasers that her aunt and uncle would look down on, call them trash, and tell Lauren to stay away from. Her mother would often argue about the fact. So, she did as her mother and father would tell her to do. She respected them.

* * *

><p>Lauren steps outside, sun shining and bright. Ponyboy walks with her to the lot. "Do you go here often?" Lauren asks.<p>

"Yeah. We used to play football here, when everything was easier." Ponyboy leans against the tree, staring at the sun with his eyes closed.

Lauren considers this. She wonders if by "easier" Ponyboy meant when she wasn't there. Did she do this to them? Did Lauren make them frustrated and angry? Should she be mad at herself? "Easier?" She asks, laying on the grass.

"Yeah, when Mom and Dad were here."

She remembers her own mother, how she moved away after Lauren turned eight. She never said where she was going, but she never came back. He father wouldn't tell her either, but his face seemed to grow gloomy when she was mentioned. "Oh,"

"Mom and Dad. They were great. Mom lended me any book I wanted, any time at all. She was friends with a nearby librarian. Dad taught me how to play football. I don't play it much, but I do track. He always said I was a good runner." He sighed happily. "And when Johnny was still here."

Lauren sat up, the wind rushing through her hair. "Johnny? Johnny Cade?"

"Yeah, do you know him?"

"No. Yes, I don't know. I've heard of him before."

"Oh. He died, last year. I've never been so mad at myself. I was held back a year in school,"

There's a long pause. "What's your name?" Lauren asks, suddenly. She was always curious as to what Pony's real name was."

"I told you. Ponyboy."

"No, your _real_ name."

Ponyboy gets a little red in the face. "That is my real name. Ponyboy Michael Curtis."

"Oh," Lauren grows red, too. "Sorry." She looks at the ground for a minute, embarrassed by her question. Then she gets an idea, so she doesn't feel so bad. "Can I call you Michael?"

Ponyboy shrugs. "I guess. Are you gonna call Soda by his middle name, too?"

"I would if I knew it."

Ponyboy smiles. He knows that Soda hates to be refered to by his middle name. "It's Patrick."

She nods. "Okay. What about that weird one? Two-Bit."

"That's just a nickname. His real name is Keith."

"Where'd he get _that _name?"

"You know how he never shuts up, and how he's always making jokes? He always has to get his two-bits in."

"Clever,"

They sit and look at the clouds for a while, talking, laughing, smiling, and really getting to know each other. They grow on each other, and when they go back to the house, Lauren doesn't feel as uncomfortable.

The whole gang sits around the t.v. Soda looks at Lauren, a smile on his face. "How was your day?" He asks.

Lauren smiles, too. "Just fine. And yours, Patrick?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **_**Sorry I haven't updated in a while. My homework's getting bigger and bigger. Science project due next week, **_**tons**_** of stuff for reading, etc. etc.**

**Hope you liked it! Review :)**


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